


And Then

by yuletide_archivist



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-20
Updated: 2003-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then one day he was just gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then

**Author's Note:**

> Written for soo

 

 

And then one day he was just gone. 

Warrick remembered Grissom's words keenly then. "A ghost," he had called himself. 

There were no parties. No long good byes. Just Greg walking into the break room where they were all sitting and asking, "Where's Grissom? I have his lab results." 

"He's not in his office?" 

Greg had rolled his eyes. "Yes, he's doing the tango on his desk, Catherine." 

The four of them had looked at each other but Warrick remembered Sara speaking first. "He's not... gone, is he? He would have told us." 

"He always tells us." Catherine stood up and strode for the door, taking charge. After the last time Warrick had run the shift, better her than him. 

Nick, Sara and Warrick had just followed in her wake. "So no one knows?" Warrick heard Greg ask the emptying room. Then he followed as well. 

The office was... naked. Stripped bare down to its blue-white walls. None of the bugs, none of the experiments, no tools, no papers. Even the desk was bare. It was gone as if some Grissom-stealing fairy had come in the night and spirited it all away. 

But they were the night shift and someone would have noticed if that was the case. "What's going on?" 

"He's gone, Sara." Catherine's voice was final. "We might find something at his apartment. But I doubt it." She reached over and touched the desk gently. "Grissom's gone." 

And just like that, Warrick believed it. 

"We're going to find him, aren't we?" Nick had asked. 

Warrick shook his head. "No." 

"It's Grissom. Are you really saying we shouldn't look? What if the Sheriff fired him?" 

Warrick laughed at that. "No, he wasn't fired. Catherine's right. Grissom is gone." But it still nagged at him. Why now? Why now? 

"Someone better tell the Sheriff. And shoot Eckley while they're at it." 

Warrick left the room at that. He didn't need to know about the recovery. CSI wasn't about recovery. It was about the crime. Grissom taught him that a long time ago. And the crime here was Grissom leaving without a reason. There had to be a reason and Warrick was going to find out what. That much he believed they all needed to know. 

It had taken some digging. A few past cases here, a few wrong turns there. But the one place that Warrick kept coming back to in the paper trail was Lady Heather's. He had never been there himself but Catherine's description of the place and the Madame herself had certainly been vivid enough for him to get a feel for things. 

So that was where he went. To see Lady Heather and, perhaps, find an explanation. 

Which left him standing in front of an imposing, almost Gothic house, wondering exactly what the protocol was for asking about Grissom. He hadn't even been a client. 

Or at least Warrick hoped not. That was a part of Grissom that he didn't really want to think about. The man had been a teacher. Warrick did not want to think about his teacher being spanked like - 

He dragged his mind far away from that thought and knocked on the door. After a few moments it opened and a woman with shoulder-length brown hair peered out at him. She was a few inches shorter than Warrick, making her tall for a woman, and was wearing a floor-length black shirt and a black spaghetti-strap top. Her only make-up was lipstick. She was actually rather appealing, if not what Warrick was expecting. "I'm Warrick Brown, Las Vegas Crime Lab." 

The door swung open further and the woman stepped out of the way. "Please, come in." She smiled. "I knew one of you would be here eventually. Frankly, I was expecting Miss Willows." 

Warrick was surprised at that. "You were?" The words came out slowly as they always did when he felt a tingle of suspicion crawling up his neck. 

The woman nodded. "I'm Lady Heather. Would you like some tea? Or coffee, perhaps?" 

He nodded blandly. "That sounds nice." 

"Follow me." She led him through the main floor of the house - mostly wood floors with throw rugs, a few pictures on the walls here and there, mostly paintings of landscapes, candles everywhere - he all noted absently. As if the house was a crime scene. 

Which, to be fair, it had been once. And with her easy assumption of why he was here it might very well be again. 

Lady Heather finally led him outside to a small garden. There was a lawn table and chairs set up. And only one teacup. "Please, sit." She gestured to one of the chairs and Warrick sat. "I expect you're here about Mr. Grissom." 

"Yes. So you know something?" 

"I know quite a few things about Mr. Grissom." She sat down and poured him tea into the one teacup, handing it over. 

"Then you also know why he left." Warrick took the cup but didn't drink, simply holding it in his hands and leaning forward. 

"I have a suspicion." She leaned back in her chair, resting her arms easily on the sides. "But it's not the one you're expecting." 

"What am I expecting?" 

"A crime. A kidnapping. A family emergency even." 

"And it's none of those?" And strangely enough, Warrick believed her. Eyewitnesses were the least reliable pieces of evidence. But Lady Heather was compelling. He honestly believed she was telling the truth about Grissom. 

"No. None of those." 

"Then would you tell me your theory?" 

And then - that moment - he realized exactly why he trusted this woman. 

She acted the part of a mentor, a teacher. Like Grissom. They shared a similarity. But Warrick couldn't put his finger on what it was. "I would be happy to, Mr. Brown." She took a breath and wet her lips. "Mr. Grissom is a complex man." 

He laughed. Complex was just the beginning. "Yes." 

"That's part of why you enjoy working with him. He surprises you. And from those surprises, you learn." 

Warrick smiled at Lady Heather. "You could take his job." 

"Oh, no. I enjoy my work far too much to do that." Lady Heather clasped her hands together in her lap. "Gil is a complex man. It is his defense mechanism." 

Warrick's eyebrows went up at that statement. "He's a ghost on purpose?" 

She nodded. Her hair swished and her brown bangs fell into her eyes. Warrick knew that she missed Grissom too. "Yes. He feels that if someone knows him completely, he'll be trapped. Or cease to exist. It's the same thing really." 

"So you think someone got to know him? And he left because of that?" 

She nodded again and met his eyes. "I know it." 

"How? Did he tell you?" 

"No. He wouldn't tell me. We haven't talked since the last case when he accused me of murder. When he deliberately sabotaged his feelings for me." 

Warrick sipped the tea. It was good and hot and vaguely tangy. "What?" 

"I know why he left, Mr. Brown, because I know him." 

And then Warrick knew. 

 


End file.
